


Clover

by IAmTheLidLid



Category: George Harrison - Fandom, John Lennon - Fandom, Paul McCartney - Fandom, The Beatles (Band), ringo starr - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:09:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheLidLid/pseuds/IAmTheLidLid
Summary: Clover Quinton is an overworked Yale student who doesn't know what to do with her life. George Harrison is a famous musician who's tired of the fame and screaming fans that come with being a Beatle. One day, George receives a pendant from an old lady at a poker game that'll change his life - but is it for the better?





	1. Full House

ॐ 

Smoke curled from the smoldering tips of cigarettes around the room, including the one hanging from his mouth. He chewed it anxiously, scowling. He sat at one of the various poker tables in the room with three other men and an oddly out of place elderly woman. She looked too kind to be in a casino like this one, with its peeling wallpaper and tattooed gang members. She had warm brown eyes that sat contentedly behind small round glasses, and always bore a welcoming smile that accentuated her wrinkles and made her seem wiser and kinder. He glanced down at his cards. His hand was horrible, yet he'd put so much on the line. He reluctantly put down his cards when everyone else did, looking around at the others.

"Anotha' one for Johnny!" John roared, breath reeking of alcohol. George cringed. John slammed his arm down on the poker table, clumsily sweeping all of the poker chips towards him with a dopey grin on his face. He buried his aquiline nose into the pile, rolling his head around and humming in satisfaction. George rolled his eyes.

"Ah, come on Georgie, don't be a sore loser!" He said, crudely throwing an arm around George's shoulder.

"I think I'm done for tonight," George said, shaking John's arm off of him and getting up. He didn't feel like drinking that night, so everyone else was beginning to get on his nerves. 

"Oh come on, Georgie, one more game for the gang!" Ringo yelled across the table.

George was about to object, but John pulled him back into his seat before he could. John put all of his poker chips on the table, Ringo most of his, and Paul the least. When it came George's turn he reluctantly put what was left of his chips, glaring at John. The old lady put a reasonable amount onto the table along with a strange pendant, earning her some strange looks. He was surprised when he picked his hand up; it was a full house. When everyone revealed their hands, George smiled. When he looked up at everyone, the old lady gave him a wink then left. 

"Bollocks! He had a card up 'is sleeve! I saw it with me own eyes!" John exploded, gawkily pointing a finger at George. George looked at the dealer, who shrugged. Paul tried to calm John down while George took what was on the table and bid everyone farewell, cashing his chips in and fleeing the casino as quickly as possible.

When he got back to his hotel room, he put all of his winnings down on the nightstand. He walked over to the bathroom and washed his face with cold water. He swore he could still hear the fans screaming from the show they'd played earlier that day. His head throbbed from the remnants of their desperate pleas and squealing. He hated Beatlemania. The screaming girls and police escorts and frequent concerts were beginning to take their toll on him, and he wished he could disappear for a while, somewhere where the fans couldn't follow him. Somewhere where he could go out for a cuppa in the morning without getting mobbed by the ever-existing hoard of girls that seemed to follow him everywhere.

He walked back to his bed and picked up the strange pendant from his nightstand. It was gold and shaped like a circle. There was a diamond in the middle, and engraved into it was a small 4-leaf clover. 

"Well, today must be my lucky day," George muttered. 

It seemed almost ancient; it was a bit rusty around the edges, and the jewel in the middle was dull. He opened it and looked inside. There was a picture of a girl. She looked to be about his age, with freckles, blue eyes, and brown hair pulled back into a neat bun. She was staring at something behind the camera, a distant look in her eyes. The only strange thing was that the picture was in color. This wasn't the expensive Kodachrome-type picture, but somehow  _better._  The colors were vibrant and crisp, the picture so clear and detailed that he could practically count the freckles on her face. He found himself entranced at this small picture, the girl in it, this pendant. He sat there staring at it for a while, studying every small detail carefully until he snapped out of it. He closed the pendant and put it down with the rest of his winnings. He climbed onto the mattress, slowly drifting asleep.


	2. It's All Too Much

♣️

She looked down at the various pages scattered around her desk, then at the clock hanging on the wall. She was supposed to meet a few friends at 8, but the time was now 8:30, and she wasn't even close to being done with all of the work she was assigned that night. She closed her eyes, willing away the migraine that was beginning to settle behind them. Feeling defeated, she slumped over and began to cry. It was all too much. She couldn't deal with all the work she had. She reached over her laptop, grabbed her bottle of Wellbutrin and popped one in her mouth, swallowing it without water. She didn't want to be here, but she had no idea where else she could be at the moment. She knew it was for her own good. She crawled onto her bed and curled into the fetal position, sobbing. She clutched the cold metal under her pillow and cried harder, fearing what would come.

_Ding dong._

She heard the doorbell ring through her home but decided to ignore it.

_Ding dong_

It rang a second time, but she remained still.

_Ding dong_

Each note reverberated through her skull, worsening the migraine she already had.

_Ding dong, Ding dong, Ding dong_

Feeling as if her head was about to explode at the next ring, she reluctantly got up and sulked over to her door, peeping through the hole to see who was there. It was Maria, one of the friends she was supposed to meet at 8. She looked annoyed, tapping her foot and clutching her phone with a superhuman grip. She gave a frustrated sigh and began to turn away, but then the door opened.

"Clover Quinton, I swear to god-" she began, but once she saw Clover's bleary eyes and stained sweater she stopped. "Oh nonononono," she said, pushing Clover back into the apartment. She dragged her all the way to her bedroom and plopped Clover down on the bed. Maria began rummaging through the dresser. "Tell me you have a long-sleeved dress," she said, turning to Clover. She nodded, getting up to pull it out. Maria inspected it, then shoved it into Clover's arms. "Go put this on. You're going to go to a club with me and you're going to have fun, whether you like it or not." She said.

"But, I still have so much work to do," Clover managed to rasp.

"Uh-uh, I don't want to hear about it. Now go put that dress on and make yourself presentable." Maria replied, crossing her arms.

Clover went into the bathroom and looked at the mirror. She looked even worse than she'd anticipated. She got undressed, wincing as she pulled the sweater over her head. After slipping on the dress, she splashed her face with cold water and applied as much makeup as she could, not caring how bad it looked. She stepped out into the hallway, looking at Maria. Maria took one look at Clover's rumpled dress and smudged makeup and stepped forward, pulling her into her arms. Clover melted into her friend's sturdy frame, sobbing once again. They stayed like that for a while, Clover crying into Maria's shoulder while Maria comforted her shaking friend, rubbing her back and telling her it'll be okay.

"You don't have to go to the club if you don't want to," Maria said softly. Clover stepped back, wiping her tears.

"No, no, it's fine. I'm going. I'll go insane if I don't distract myself". She managed to bare a weak smile and nodded at Maria before stepping back into the bathroom to fix her makeup.

The club was crowded and sweaty, the dancefloor a mob of people jumping to the beat of the music. It was dark and smelled of sweat and alcohol, but she didn't care. She and Maria sat at the bar and ordered drinks.

Two shots of vodka and three glasses of beer later, Clover was on the dancefloor. Everything around her was a blur; the flashing lights, the dancing people, the steady beat of the song. She liked it better this way. Nothing mattered here. She didn't care about anything.

Something was bugging her, though. Like a small fly buzzing around in her ear. She swatted at it, only to find her hand smacking someone in the face. She laughed. It was funny. She looked at the man. He was handsome. He was trying to say something. She couldn't hear. The music was so loud. Everyone and everything was moving to the beat. Why wasn't she moving to the beat? He dragged her off the dancefloor, saying something about a picture and some old lady at a poker game. She didn't care. She started going back to the dancefloor, but he grabbed her wrist to pull her back. Light danced across her eyes and the world turned upside down. She whimpered in pain and snatched her wrist away. She didn't like this. She wanted to go home.

"I wanna go home," she said. He nodded.

Clover stumbled out of the club and into the cold street, hugging herself to stay warm. The handsome stranger followed her and stood next to her under the flickering streetlight.

"How far do ye live?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. They were big and fluffy. Like Caterpillars. She liked them. She reached out and started stroking them, giggling lightly to herself. She earned a light chuckle from him, his deep voice tickling her ears.

"Heyy, you're handsomme. Why don't you come hoome with meeee?" she slurred.

"Okay," he played along, "How far do ye live?" She pointed down the street.

"That-a-way!" She yelled, pulling the man down the street.

Once they got to her home, she pulled out her keys from her purse and started attempting to unlock the door. After many fails, the man decided to take it into his own hands and opened it for her.

"Thanks, honeey," she garbled as she staggered into the hallway. She wanted water. She went into the kitchen and found herself feeling tired. She curled up on the floor. Her carpet was comfortable. She liked it. "Goodnight," she mumbled to herself as she closed her eyes.


	3. Park Bench

  ॐ

He woke up to the sound of blaring music, loud and obnoxious. He sat up, shivering. He wasn't in his hotel room anymore. It seemed as if he was on a bench in some park. Confused and disoriented, he stood up and looked around. Trees were surrounding him, and there was a street down the pathway in front of him.

_What the fuck? Where am I? Did some fan kidnap me and leave me here?_

He patted himself down, not seeing any notable marks or bruises.

_What time is it? I might be late for the recording session! Brian's probably going mad!_

Looking down the pathway, he noticed lights near what seemed to be a busy road.

_That's it, a road! I can ask someone for directions back to EMI._

He began to make his way down to the bustling street, holding himself to keep warm. The lights of the various restaurants and bars on the street were bright, hurting his eyes. The first thing that caught his eye was the cars. The only word George could think of to describe them was sleek; They were far more luxurious than any car he'd ever seen. He stood there for a while, gaping at each one as it passed. He must've looked strange there in the middle of the sidewalk, a grown man staring at everything and everyone as if they were extraterrestrial. People walked past him, holding unknown devices that they seemed to be tapping and swiping. Where in the world was he? He spotted someone walking down the street and asked them for directions.

"'Scuse me, but I'm a bit lost right now. Would ye happen to know where we are?" George asked.

"Sure, we're in New Haven right now." the stranger answered, not once looking up from their device.

"Sorry?"

"New Haven, Connecticut."

George acted as if he understood to avoid embarrassment, and walked away.

He spotted a club not far from where he was standing and decided to ask again there. He stepped in and looked around. There was a worn-out bar in the back, a dancefloor in the middle, and a TV behind the bartender. George stared at the Television, mesmerized by the clarity of the colored program. Everything was so different here; he had to know where he was.

He walked up to the bartender and asked where he was.

"New Haven, Connecticut," he gruffly replied.

"And where would that be?"

The bartender gave him a strange look. "You, sir, are in New Haven, Connecticut, USA, home to the Yale Bulldogs."

"Ah, okay," George replied, turning to the dancefloor.

The bartender's answer only confused him more; he was just in London the night before. How'd someone manage to transport him to America overnight without once waking him up? He racked his brain for possibilities, for ways to get back home, but he could come up with nothing. He couldn't quite wrap his head around how modern and luxurious this place felt. He'd been to America before when he was touring, but nothing he'd ever seen came close to how this place appeared.

As his mind wandered, he found himself looking at a familiar face.

 _That's the girl_ , he realized,  _she's the one in that strange pendant! Maybe I can ask her to make sense of this; it can't be a coincidence._

He awkwardly made his way through the crowd of people to her side.

"Ey, love!" He shouted above the music. "Would ye mind talking to me over there?" he pointed to the door. She didn't respond, she merely slapped him and laughed, then began jumping to the beat of the music. After some time of trying to get her attention, he guided her off of the dance floor, closer to the door.

"Listen carefully now, this is really important," George said, looking at her. His heart and mind were racing; she merely appeared bored. "I got this pendant from an old lady at a poker game the other night, and it has a picture of yer face in it. After I went to sleep last night, I woke up on a bench in that park over there, with no recollection of how I ended up there. Can ye please help me understand what's happening? Everything here is so-" She began walking back to the dancefloor.

She wasn't even listening.

 _She's drunk_ , George thought.  _She won't even remember a bloody thing I'd say anyways!_

Frustrated, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him. She yelped and her face contorted into one of pain.

"I wanna go home" she slurred, clutching her arm. George nodded.

 _Maybe it's better if I wait for the booze to wear off_ , he thought.

They both stumbled out into the night, cold air biting their cheeks.

"How far do ye live?" he asked the shivering girl. She stared at him for a few seconds, then started stroking his eyebrows and giggling. He couldn't help but chuckle in amusement.

"Heyy, you're handsomme. Why don't you come hoome with meeee?" she slurred.

"Okay," he played along, "How far do ye live?"

She pointed down the street. "That-a-way!" She yelled, pulling him down the road.

After they'd both gotten to her apartment, he opened the door for her and watched her stumble into her kitchen. He sighed, dizzy in confusion from all the things he'd seen that day. He went into the kitchen to check on her only to find her curled up on the floor. She looked oddly peaceful while she was asleep. George looked around the apartment to locate her bedroom, then scooped her up to carry her to bed. She nestled into his chest when he picked her up, and he smiled. He gently lay her down on her mattress, tucking her in.

He looked at the walls. There were posters of what seemed to be bands plastered all over the room.

 _Wait_ , He thought, inching closer to one of four young men wearing colorful uniforms.  _Is that..?_

He looked closer, and what he saw only confirmed his suspicions. It was a poster of the Beatles, his band. Their logo was written in the bottom right corner. George examined each member, noting how each Beatle looked different than they did at the casino the night before. He looked over at the girl, comfortably curled up under her blanket, snoring softly. What kind of superfan was she? How did she have these pictures?

Mind reeling, he stepped back from the poster and bumped into a desk. He turned around and looked at it, eyeing the strange device sitting in its center. It was thin and white, with an apple engraved onto it. Beneath it was a small tablet with letters and symbols on it, and when he tapped the letter /g/ the screen lit up, revealing a picture of an old man. He seemed wise and vaguely familiar, though George couldn't put his finger on why. Looking closer, he saw his own signature in the bottom left corner.

Even more confused than he was before, he turned around and noticed a calendar.  _November 2018_ , it read. His breathing shallowed, and he felt himself begin to slowly shake his head, impulsively denying whatever strange conclusion this place was trying to will him to make.

George hurried out of the room, closing the door gently behind him and rushing to what seemed to be the living room. He lay on the couch and stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Before he even came close to wrapping his head around it, however, he fell asleep.


	4. Here Comes the Sun

  ♣️   _  
_

_Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep_

Clover groaned. Why was her alarm making so much noise at such an ungodly hour? Some people were trying to sleep. She squinted her eyes open, peering at her alarm clock to see that it was 11:30 a.m. She rolled over and decided to sit up, regretting it almost immediately. The lights were too bright and the birds too loud. Her head was pounding, and her arm was sore.

She made her way to the bathroom, trying to remember what had happened last night. She took one look at herself in the mirror and cringed. She looked like a raccoon attempting drag. She splashed cold water on her face and washed off all her makeup from the night before. Feeling refreshed, she grabbed a Monster from her fridge and walked to her room, changing into sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Opening the curtains, she began cleaning the mess she'd left on her desk last night and took a deep breath. Looking around, you almost couldn't tell that she'd had a mental breakdown yesterday.

She needed something to take her mind off of everything that was going on in her life. Cracking open her Monster, she took a sip and reached out for her acoustic guitar. She sat criss-crossed on her mattress, tuning it mindlessly. Once it sounded in tune, she grabbed her capo and pick and began to play the opening riff of "Here Comes the Sun", humming along. She immediately felt so much better, calming her nerves with every string she plucked. She closed her eyes and began to sing.

_Here comes the sun,_

_Doo doo doo doo,_

_Here comes the sun,_

_And I say,_

_It's all right_

_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter_

_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here_

_Here comes the sun,_

_Doo doo doo doo,_

_Here comes the sun,_

_And I say,_

_It's all right_

_Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces_

_Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here_

_Here comes the sun,_

_Doo doo doo doo,_

_Here comes the sun,_

_And I say,_

_It's all right._

She played one last chord and sighed. Opening her eyes, she noticed a lean figure standing in the doorway.

  ॐ  

He woke up to the sound of a guitar playing. The tune seemed familiar, though he was certain he'd never heard it before. It was strange, like feeling nostalgia for something you know you've never experienced.

He got off the couch and mindlessly began following the sweet tune down the hallway. He paused at the door, peering over the edge. It was the girl from the locket. Her eyes were closed and she was humming along to the beautiful melody resonating from her guitar. The sun shone on her, making her look almost angelic. It seemed as though she was glowing from within. George stood in awe as she began to sing; her voice filled his ears with the most beautiful music and calmed him into a sense of serene euphoria.

He was almost disappointed when she played the last chord, blinking out of the stunned state he never realized he was in. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, gasping and putting her guitar down.

"Wh-who are you? What're you doing in my apartment?" She looked at him, eyes as wide as saucers.

   ♣️    

"Calm down; I'm not going to hurt ye," his deep voice and thick accent seemed vaguely familiar to her. "Trust me; I'm just as confused as ye are." 

Then it hit her.

"You're... You're..." She gasped. 

_No. Fucking. Way._

Her mind raced. The man looked at her, also perplexed and confused at this new world in which he found himself.

"Are you...  _George Harrison?_ " she asked, trying to remember to breathe. He nodded. She put her hand to her forehead.

"Oh no, no, no, no. Nope. This can't be possible. I'm probably imagining this right now. Am I crazy? No no, I couldn't possibly be crazy. This is all just a dream. If I just-" he cut her off by putting a hand over her mouth.

"Right. Sorry," she said once he'd removed his hand, a light blush spreading across her cheeks. She noticed him gaping at the Sgt. Pepper's poster that was hanging behind her and gasped.  _Judging by his hair and clothing, he must be from the Beatles' early era; that hasn't happened yet!_

She quickly positioned herself to block his view of the poster, laughing awkwardly.

"Um, why don't you go take a seat on my couch? I'm sure you have many questions. Trust me, I do too, but I have to make myself, uh, presentable," she gave a nervous smile. George didn't look entirely convinced but rigidly shuffled out of her room, eyes never leaving the poster.

Clover took a deep breath. Everything seemed to have happened so quickly; she wasn't even sure if the man in her living room was real or not. She got off of her bed, walking over to her closet. She opened it, looking through the numerous articles of clothing hanging inside.  _What does one wear when meeting their long-dead idol?_  She smirked. She settled on a tight, long-sleeved bodysuit and ripped jeans. She went to the bathroom and painstakingly combed her hair back into a perfect bun, pausing to make sure that no strands were out of place.

When she walked into the living room, she found George poking the TV.

"What're you doing to my TV?" she asked, holding back laughter.

"You're telling me that  _this,_ " he spread his arms wide to gesture to the large flat-screen, "is a television?"

Clover nodded. George only looked more fascinated with her TV.

She giggled. "I'm sure you have many questions about the  _luxurious_  commodities of the 21st century, but-"

"Did you say the  _21st century?_ " George asked, eyes widening.

"Wait, you didn't know? You're not here on purpose?"

George shook his head, eyes widening.

"That makes things a whole lot more interesting," Clover said, scrunching her brows. She patted the seat next to her, asking him to take a seat.

"George Harrison," he said once he sat, sticking out his hand.

"What?" Clover said, slightly taken aback by the spontaneity of his introduction.

"I realized that we've been so focused on what's going on around us that we still haven't yet had a formal introduction, and I'm not counting your drunk rambling last night." He winked, a smirk forming on his lips. Clover felt her face begin to burn.

"George Harrison," he repeated, extending his hand once again. "Pleasure meeting ya."

"Clover Quinton." She gingerly shook his calloused hand, flinching at contact as if touching him would burn her skin. She smiled. He smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners.

 

 

 


	5. Closeted

  ♣️  

"Okay, start from the beginning. Maybe I can piece something together," Clover sat on the couch.

"You seem very determined to get to the bottom of this," George gently sat next to her, an inquisitive glint in his eyes.

"Well if you're really here then it can't be an accident. Someone or something sent you here for a reason, and I'm determined to get to the bottom of this." She grabbed the notepad she kept on her end table, opening it up to a new page and readying a pencil. "Plus," she added, "I like to take notes."

George told her everything from the casino to the old lady to the locket. Clover listened carefully, piercing blue eyes deep in thought as she scribbled notes onto the notepad.

"When I woke up, I was on a park bench across from a bar. I recognized ye in the bar and tried to talk to you. You were very drunk, so nothing I was trying to say was getting across. I ended up walking ye home and sleeping on yer couch," George finished.

Clover nodded, writing the last few words into her notepad.

"Do you still have said locket? I'd like to see it."

George began to say he didn't, but he felt something warm in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out the locket, looking at it dumbly; he could've sworn he'd left it on his nightstand, but that was one of the least strange things that had happened. He handed it over to Clover, who studied it. 

He looked at her as she looked at it, trying to memorize every detail in the scene that lay before him. Her auburn hair was in a carefully styled bun. Every individual strand seemed to lay in the correct position. Her long lashes concealed her pale blue eyes as she looked down at the locket, fluttering whenever she blinked. She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows as she turned the locket over in her hands, seemingly recording every detail in the tiny piece of metal just like George was studying her. George looked around. Everything was just as immaculate as Clover, perfectly in its designated place. A few frames lined the walls, mostly pictures of landscapes or close-ups of nature, all corresponding with the room's color scheme.

"A clover. Funny," she mumbled as she opened the small locket, fumbling at the latch with her delicate fingers. She regarded the picture inside with curiosity.

"Strange. I don't think I remember taking this picture,"

"Really? And what do you suppose that means?" George looked at her with curious eyes.

"Well, considering you came here from what, 1964?" George nodded. "I see two options. Either I forgot about taking this picture, or it hasn't happened yet. I feel like its relevant to mention that I never forget anything."

They sat there for what seemed like the longest time, pondering possible reasons that George could be here.

"Fussing over what happened isn't important. If I really am here for a reason, then whatever or whoever sent me here is bound to ensure I'm aware one way or another." George rubbed his temples.

"I suppose you're right," Clover closed the notepad and returned it to the end table. "Now then, I'm sure you have thousands of burning questions about my time. Shoot."

"What year is this?" George asked.

Clover had forgotten to tell him the year. She mentally facepalmed and said, "Today should be November 17th, 2018."

George's eyes widened. "Two thousand...Eighteen..." he said as if stating the number itself was foreign to him. "That's..." he paused. "54 years away..."

"Yes.." Clover said, anticipating his next question

"Am I still alive?" He looked at her, eyes expectant.

She knew it was going to come to this. He would ask about his present self, but she didn't think that she could bear to tell him.

"Listen, we need to establish some rules. What was the date you came from?" Clover asked.

"November 16th, 1964." He said.

Clover grabbed the notepad and hastily scribbled the date at the bottom of the page.

"So everything that happens to you after November 16th, 1964 is considered a spoiler. I won't allow myself to show you any music you released or any news stories about what happens to you after that date, and you can't do any research on yourself. I don't wanna mess with history or anything, understand?"

He nodded, eyes wide.

"However, that doesn't stop me from showing you technology, music, and news that isn't about you; it would be nearly impossible to prevent you from finding out one way or another."

"Can I ask-" George was interrupted by a knock on the door. A very determined one, as it sounded. Clover rushed to the peephole to see that Maria was standing outside.

"You have to hide!" Clover whisper-shouted to George, who was now standing, eyes wide. "I don't want to have to explain this whole situation to anyone else yet. Go to my room! Get in the closet!"

George rushed down the hall to Clover's room, and upon hearing the click of her closet closing, Clover opened the front door. Maria rushed in and nearly suffocated Clover in a hug.

"My god, you idiot! I thought you were dead or kidnapped!" Maria exclaimed, tightening her grip on Clover.

"I'm fine, Maria, my phone must've died," Clover mumbled into her shoulder, gently prying her off. "I somehow found my way back home while I was wasted."

"Well, at least you're oka-" Maria was interrupted by a loud rumbling noise coming from Clover's room.

"What was that?" she asked, slowly making her way towards the bedroom. Clover rushed after her.

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. Hey! I just got Netflix, wanna-"

_Grrrr_

"Nono, you could have a robber in here," Maria whispered, getting down into a defensive stance. "Don't worry, I took karate in the 3rd grade, I should be fine."

_Grrrr_

Maria whipped around to face the closet, narrowing her eyes as if zeroing in on her target. She slowly prowled closer, then thrust the door open to reveal a very frightened George. His stomach growled again.

"Uh, would ye happen to have something to eat? I'm starved."  he grinned sheepishly.

Maria collapsed.

 

 


	6. Alexa

  ♣️  

"Christ," George said, raising his eyebrows at the now unconscious Maria that was sprawled across the floor. "Didn't know I had  _that_   much of an effect on ladies,"

Clover rolled her eyes.

"She knows who you are, idiot." She said matter-of-factly, narrowing her eyes at George. "Help me get her to my bed."

With Clover holding her by the legs, and George by the head, they gently picked Maria up and placed her on Clover's bed.

"You never did tell me, y'know," George said once he put Maria down.

"Never told you what?" Clover said.

"How  _do_   ye know who I am? If this really is the year 2018, then how would ye know who some old bloke who made music 50 years ago is?" George raised his brows, clearly insinuating something.

"Okay, George, you can assume that you're successful if some random college kid you happened upon is a fan of yours," Clover responded with a smile.

"Whoo!" George exclaimed, punching the air. "Now, how about that food? I'm still starving."

Clover chuckled and led George to her kitchen, where she pulled out some cold cuts and began making him a sandwich. He devoured it in the blink of an eye then looked up at her with pleading eyes. She made him another, then another, until she'd run out of meat. George gave a sigh, then walked back to the living room and plopped himself down on Clover's couch.

"What d'ya reckon we should tell yer friend there?" George asked, laying down with his arms behind his head.

"I trust her, so I think we should tell her the full truth whenever she's ready for it." Clover sat on the arm of the couch by George's legs. "She doesn't know much about you, but I did always shove Beatles information down her throat." George chuckled quietly, evidently deep in thought. His gaze drifted up to the ceiling.

Clover looked over at George. His thick brows were furrowed in concentration, and a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. They were framed by a prominent 5'o clock shadow, and his suit was now crumpled and worn.

"We need to get you some new clothes, y'know," Clover noted, breaking the silence.

"It would be unwise of us to leave yer unconscious friend home alone, wouldn't it?" George asked, holding himself up on his forearms.

"It's the 21st century; you don't have to leave your house to do much of anything anymore," Clover replied with a smirk. "Wait here," she said before running down the hall to grab her laptop. She ran back to her living room where George was now sitting upright and sat next to him.

"I present to you," Clover put on her best TV show host voice. "The all-new Apple MacBook Pro!" She revealed the sleek laptop, framing it with her hands as if she were modeling it. George sat straight up now, marveling at the small object in Clover's hands.

"What is it?" He asked, eyes wide.

"This, my friend, is a modern-day laptop. It performs basically all the functions of a computer, but it's much more portable." Clover thought she sounded like she was giving some lame sales pitch, but George seemed to be buying every word she said.

"What'll happen if I touch it?" He asked, eyes never leaving the laptop.

"Go for it, man," Clover giggled, amused by George's astonishment. George hesitantly poked the screen, then jumped back, shielding his face with his hands. Clover laughed.

"Here, let me unlock it for you." She entered her password and opened Safari. She spent a solid 30 minutes trying to explain the concept of the internet to him.

"This is bloody amazing," George said, running his hand through his hair. "How's it possible?"

"No one really understands, but that's not the point," Clover said. "It's like hot dogs. No one really knows what they're all about, but you don't have to understand it in order to enjoy it." George nodded.

"Anyways, we were getting you some new clothes," Clover said, going to Google. "If you lived in the 21st century, what would your style be like?" After an hour of online clothes shopping, they'd gotten everything Clover deemed necessary for an average guy living in 2018.

"Gear," George said, sitting back. "Fashion in your time is very... interesting."

"Yup," Clover agreed, looking around her living room.

A short awkward silence followed, causing Clover to shift uncomfortably. She was thinking of ways to break it when she got an idea.

"Alexa," She said, smirking.

A ding sounded, startling George, and the cylindrical object on Clover's coffee table lit up blue.

"Play  _I'm Happy Just to Dance With You_   by The Beatles,"

_Okay,_  the robotic voice responded.

The intro of  _I'm Happy Just to Dance With You_  sounded from her surround sound system, resonating off of the walls of the room.

"What in the-" George said, looking around with wide eyes.

"Just enjoy it," Clover giggled, getting up and pulling George with her. Seeing her reassuring smile, he relaxed and stood up to dance with Clover. They bobbed and bounced to the beat of the song, singing the words to each other and shaking their heads to the beat.

_Before this dance is through,_

_I think I'll love you, too_

_I'm so happy when you dance with me._

_I don't wanna kiss or hold your hand,_

_If it's funny try and understand,_

_There is really nothing else I'd rather do,_

_'Cause I'm happy just to dance with you._

_I don't need to hug or hold you tight,_

_I just wanna dance with you all night,_

_In this world there's nothing I would rather do,_

_'Cause I'm happy just to dance with you._

_Just to dance with you,_

_Is everything I need._

_Before this dance is through,_

_I think I'll love you, too,_

_I'm so happy when you dance with me._

_If somebody tries to take my place,_

_Let's pretend we just can't see his face,_

_In this world there's nothing I would rather do,_

_'Cause I'm happy just to dance with you._

_Just to dance with you,_

_Is everything I need._

_Before this dance is through,_

_I think I'll love you, too,_

_I'm so happy when you dance with me._

_If somebody tries to take my place,_

_Let's pretend we just can't see his face,_

_In this world there's nothing I would rather do,_

_I discovered I'm in love with you._

_'Cause I'm happy just to dance with you._

By the end of the song, they were both giggling like schoolgirls. They collapsed next to each other on the couch and tried to catch their breath.

"So, uh, that another friend of yers?" George asked, turning his head to look at Clover.

"That's Alexa. She's basically a personal assistant, but she's a robot." Clover said, slicking back the strands of hair that were beginning to stick out after her dancing.

"Bigger question here. How did she know my song?" George asked, sitting up.

"It's called music streaming. You can listen to pretty much any song ever released almost instantaneously." Clover said.

"Can I try?" George looked like a child asking their parent to let them sit in the driver's seat.

"Sure, just call her name and say a song or artist you want her to play." Clover giggled, motioning over to her Amazon Echo.

"Alexa," George's eyes lit up when the Echo lit up blue in response. "Play  _Bird Dog_   by The Everly Brothers."

The guitar started the song, lively strumming filling the living room. George laughed in disbelief and started to dance again. Clover began to get up but was interrupted by an angry voice behind her.

"Alexa, stop".

 

 


	7. Movie Night

♣️   

"Clover," Maria was standing by the hallway, hands on her hips as if she were a mother about to scold her child. "We need to talk."

Clover nodded, motioning to the seat beside her.

"Alone."

Maria emphasized this word, glaring at George behind squinted eyes. Clover cast him an apologetic look as she got up and followed Maria to her room. Once Clover shut the door, Maria burst.

"Care to explain the man I found in your closet today?"

"Well-"

"Don't give me a 'well', Clover! That wasn't you I saw at the club last night!"

"But-"

"I'm not done yet! I tolerated it, thinking that you just needed to blow off some steam. I felt that as long as I kept a close eye on you it'd be fine, but I go to the bathroom for 5 minutes and you're gone? Do you have any idea how worried I was? Then when I get here, I find you doing god knows what with a stranger? That's not you, Clover!" Maria was yelling.

"Why do you care what I was doing anyway? Who cares if I had sex with that man?"

Maria lowered her voice. "What if your parents find out? I know what they're like, Clover. I've witnessed it firsthand."

Clover looked down.

"Listen, I'm worried for you. I don't know what you're trying to accomplish by getting drunk and having one-night stands, but it'd better be more important than your college degree."

"I don't even know how I got so drunk! I'm usually fine..." Clover was quiet.

Maria spotted the bottle of Wellbutrin on Clover's desk, and a lightbulb went off in her head.

"That's it! Finally, my pharmaceutical studies are paying off," Clover gave Maria a confused look as she picked up the bottle of pills. "A common antidepressant, Wellbutrin is known to decrease alcohol tolerance, making the effects of alcohol stronger! That wasn't you being reckless last night; it was just the medicine mixing with the alcohol!"

Clover smirked and crossed her arms, raising a brow at Maria. "I'm going to ignore the lack of faith you had in me just then and explain the man sitting in my living room." Maria stared at her dumbly, mouth agape like a fish.

"As far as I can remember, I didn't do anything to that man, nor did he do anything to me except get me home safely. Listen carefully now; this is where the story gets strange."

Maria nodded, eyes wide.

"That man in my living room is George Harrison."

"Wait- isn't that the guy who died of lung cancer?"

"Yes."

Clover stared at Maria, daring her to say something.

"Don't you think that's a bit unrealis-"

"No."

Silence.

"Care to explain?"

"He was given a locket with my picture in it from some old lady at a casino. He woke up on a bench across the street from the club that we were at. Recognizing me, he tried to get help but ended up helping me home instead. The rest, as they say, is history."

"So you're trying to tell me that a man that died 17 years ago, who would be in his 70s were he alive today and who just happens to be part of one of the most influential rock bands ever is sitting in your living room at the young age of 21?"

"Yes."

"I think I'll have to talk to him about that."

Walking back to the living room, they found George twiddling his thumbs awkwardly. Clover wasn't sure how much he'd heard.

After talking it out for a solid half hour, Maria seemed to warm up to George.

"I still don't believe this is happening; it's almost too good to be true," Maria said.

"How do ye think I feel? Waking up 54 years in the future," George replied, running his hand through his hair.

Maria's smartwatch went off, startling her.

"Oh! It looks like I have somewhere to be soon. It was delightful meeting you, George. Sorry for being so rude earlier. Catch you later?" Clover could've sworn she saw Maria wink at him. She stared at her in disbelief.

"Sure, that'd be gear," George looked down, clearly flustered. Maria laughed and bid Clover farewell, exiting the apartment with a wave of the hand. Clover got up to lock the door.

When Clover went back to the living room, she found George fiddling with his thumbs again. She looked over at the clock. It was now 5 pm. George's stomach growled again, even louder this time. Clover giggled and headed over to her kitchen, where she made a bowl of popcorn. She brought it back to the living room and sat on the couch next to George, turning her TV on. She put on  _A Hard Day's Night_.

"Hope you don't mind. I love this movie," Clover said, grabbing two fuzzy blankets. She tossed one at George and bundled herself up in the other, holding the bowl of popcorn out to him. He took it willingly, shoveling handfuls of the buttery stuff into his mouth. Clover enjoyed watching George's face light up in wonder as the movie played in HD on her flat screen more than she did watching the film itself. The light of her TV screen played off of his angular cheekbones, casting shadows on his face. She remembered once she caught view of the schoolgirls on the train that this was the scene on which he met Pattie. She looked over at him when Pattie came on the screen and saw that he had a longing look in his eyes. She sighed and turned back to the screen, trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling in her stomach. She still couldn't believe she was here, watching George Harrison answer a pesky reporter's questions about his haircut next to  _the_  George Harrison. She sighed, resting her head on George's shoulder. He tensed, then gently lay his head on top of hers, mouth slowly curling up into a small smile.

The credits played at the end of the movie, and George let out a yawn, stretching his arms.

"That movie never does get old," Clover said, sitting upright to access her remote. "How about we watch a more recent one? One that you've never heard of?"

"Sure, that sounds gear," George said, burrowing himself deeper into his blanket.

_What would best represent all of the accomplishments that humanity has made since his time? What one cinematography masterpiece will adequately demonstrate how far we've come?_  

Clover scrolled through the movies trying to find one to settle on. She saw the yellow animated characters on the poster of one and smiled.

One hour and twenty-six minutes later, George looked confused. "So, this is what you future kind watch?" He asked, scratching his head. Clover doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

"I'm sorry," she managed to gasp in between fits of laughter. "It's just..." She bent over again. "Your face..."

"Y'know, now that I think of it, that Jailbreak character did develop beautifully throughout the film," His lips curled up into a grin.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Clover said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Tell me again what 'emojis' are?"

"Like smiley faces, but each one can represent a different emotion, action, or thing. You send them over text to portray messages or feelings more easily than you could by typing them out."

"Text?"

Clover sighed, explaining in depth the concept of texting and the subtle nuances between an 'Okay' and a 'K'.

"All this future business seems rather complicated to me," George said, trying to wrap his mind around the true meaning of an eggplant emoji.

"If you want, I could get you a phone so you could learn for yourself," Clover suggested. "Plus, it'd be a great way for us to communicate if I was in class."

"I'd never let ye spend the money on me. I mean, look at the thing!" George exclaimed, motioning at the iPhone in Clover's hand.

"It's no problem; my parents would pay for it. They don't know what else to do with their money."

"So ye have wealthy parents? That'd explain this  _lavish_  lifestyle yer livin'." He remarked, gazing around at the various decorations around her apartment.

"They're doing alright, they take good care of me, as long as I..." Clover's voice faded, her eyes gazing at the wall. "No matter, I'll call them and get you a phone by the end of tomorrow." She blurted, sounding unusually peppy. "Well, I have class tomorrow, and I don't want to be tired; I do need my beauty sleep! Goodnight!" She said, turning off the TV and running down the hall to her room.

She slammed the door behind her, casting a glance at the threatening pile of work glaring at her from her desk. She sighed, putting an Everly Brothers record on her turntable and trudging over to her office chair. She picked up her pencil and tried to focus on the work set out for her.

 


	8. Gucci Sunnies

  ♣️  

Clover jumped at her desk as her alarm sounded, rudely blaring as if it had nothing better to do. She rubbed her eyes, groggily sat up, and shuffled over to her alarm clock, turning it off with a satisfying  _click_  of the button. She organized all the papers on her desk and neatly put them into her bag, then went to her bathroom to shower and get ready for class.

After her shower, she went to her kitchen to prepare breakfast. Upon opening her fridge, however, discovered that many food items had seemingly disappeared overnight. She looked over at her couch and smirked, knowing that George had probably had a ball with all the food he'd found while she was working last night. She decided on some greek yogurt, grabbing it and getting a spoon. She walked over to the couch and looked at George, contemplating whether or not to wake him up. He looked peaceful while asleep, long hair splayed out in all different directions. She decided on writing a note instead.

_George,_

_I've prepared some commodities that you can use while you stay here. Once you've woken up, feel free to shower (don't use up all my shampoo) and prepare breakfast for yourself (go easy on my fridge). You can have Alexa play movies or music for you. Just try to entertain yourself so you don't end up burning my apartment building down (don't worry, the lights won't go out this time)._

_I've called my parents, and they're having someone drop off a cell phone for you while I'm in class. Seeing as you're George Harrison, I've spared no expense and have gotten you the all-new iPhone XS Max (that's the new one). When the guy shows up at the door, make sure to wear the sunglasses I've placed on the counter so he won't recognize you. It'll already be set up for you when you get it, so you can get right into trying out the phone. It's crucial you get used to it; the smartphone is a staple to everyday life in 2018. Try texting me with it once you get it, and don't break it please; it was 1500 dollars._

_-C._

Wondering where to place the letter so he'd get it, Clover opted to tape it on her fridge. She set a hot pink pair of Gucci glasses on the counter, giggling as she imagined George wearing them. She grabbed her bag and walked out the door, casting one last glance at the snoring Beatle that lay on her sofa before locking the door behind her

  ॐ  

George woke up a few hours later, yawning as he sat up. He drowsily shuffled over to the fridge, grimacing as his stomach growled. He was surprised to find a piece of paper with his name hastily scrawled on it taped on the door. He read it, then glanced at the counter, almost immediately noticing the blazing pink pair of sunnies that lay in the middle.

_Very funny_ , He thought, picking them up to scrutinize them. They seemed to be well-made, definitely expensive. He recognized the double-g logo emblazoned on the side from somewhere; maybe from some shop he'd seen in New York? He wasn't too sure about that.

He was startled by the doorbell ringing, looking over at Clover's closed door. He looked through the peephole and saw a young man, presumably in his 20s or 30s, standing there with a bag in his hands. He glanced back at the glasses, not wanting to wear them, but put them on anyways.

He opened the door, feeling his cheeks flush when the man began snickering once he saw George. He pulled out what looked like a 21st-century cell phone, and a light flashed on the back of it, accompanied by a camera shutter sound.

"Sorry, Clover asked me to. Something about a once in a lifetime opportunity?" He said, putting the device back into his pocket. He held the bag out for George. "Here. This is for you."

"Ta'," George replied, falteringly taking the bag.

"That's some accent you've got there," the man noted, "Where you from?"

"I'm, an..." George paused for a split second, searching for a plausible excuse. "Exchange student! I'm from Liverpool, but I'm here on an exchange program."

"Huh," the man said, apparently believing the story. "Listen, I don't know what you're doing in her apartment or why you need an iPhone X on such short notice, and it's not my place to ask, but I wouldn't try anything funny if I were you. Clover's parents can be a bit neurotic when it comes to certain...distractions." the man fixed him with a steely glare. "Understand me?"

George nodded, trying not to make a distinct impression on the man, which would prove difficult while wearing hot pink sunglasses.

"Alrighty then, you have a good day," the man said jovially, beginning to turn away from the door. "Stay out of trouble!" He yelled over his shoulder as he began to jog down the stairs.

George closed the door, trying to look inside the bag. He finally got a small box out of it once he reached the couch, and sat down to inspect it. A thing of the future it was; that he could tell. He carefully slid the box open and gazed in awe at the small device that lay within. George carefully took the phone out of the box and placed it gingerly on the sofa beside him, lifting the panel to inspect the rest of its contents. There was a small user's manual and a little white wire with two bulbous objects at one end and a flat metal device at the other. George opened the manual.

After about an hour of fiddling around with the outlandish device, he was beginning to get the hang of it and decided to try to text Clover. After finding her in his contacts, he attempted to send something.

**_George_ : Just got the phony. It is a wrok of atr.**

**_Clover_ : Try typing more slowly, I might just be able to understand what you're trying to say.**

**_George_ : Sorry. Still don't really get this thing.**

**_Clover_ : It's not that complicated if you take it at surface level.**

A few minutes passed. George sat on the couch, swiping through his apps mindlessly and fiddling around with the calculator. Not knowing what else to do, he texted Clover.

**_George_ : So, what now? There doesn't seem to be anything to do on here. Remind me again why this thing is so expensive?**

**_Clover_ : You can do lots on it! Go to the App Store and download YouTube. You won't regret it.**

**_George_ : English, please?**

**_Clover_ : There's a blue application on your phone called the App Store. Once you open it, tap the bar at the top of your screen that says 'search' and type in 'YouTube'. Once you get the search results, click the first one (it should be a red rectangle with a white play button in the middle). Click install and watch some videos once it finishes.**

**_Clover_ : I have to go back to class now; my lunch break's over. I'll be home in a few hours!**

**_George_ : Okay.**

George slid up as he'd read in the instructions and tapped on the blue square labeled 'App Store', eyes lighting up when it opened. He followed Clover's instructions and downloaded YouTube, utterly unaware that he would be permanently altering his life drastically.

  ♣️  

Clover sat at the front of the class, furiously writing notes as her professor was giving a lecture on neuroscience. Everyone had warned her that Mr. Wilson spoke as fast as a cheetah and that no one was able to keep up with him, but she'd written them off as sub-par students who didn't pay enough attention. There she sat, however, giving him 110% of her attention, yet she wasn't able to catch up with him for the life of her. She looked over at her phone, which was recording the whole lecture. She'd have some extra note taking to do once she got home. The bell rung, signaling lunch, and Clover quickly packed up her things and darted out the door. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and took it out, noticing it was a message from George.

**_George_ : Just got the phony. It is a wrok of atr.**

Clover smiled, amused at his attempt at a first text.

**_Clover_ : Try typing more slowly, I might just be able to understand what you're trying to say.**

She walked to a bench on the side of the path and sat down, opening her bag to retrieve her lunch.

**_George_ : Sorry. Still don't really get this thing.**

Clover texted him for the remainder of lunch and decided to put him onto YouTube. She wondered what kind of videos he'd watch. Just as she was about to recommend a few channels, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. She quickly said goodbye and packed her stuff up, heading to her next class.

♣️

"I'm home!" Clover opened the door, revealing George sulking over his new phone. She moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

"Wha!" He exclaimed, gazing up at her with wide eyes. "Don't do that! Ye nearly scared me half to death."

"Whatcha watching?" Clover asked, peering over his shoulder at the bright screen.

_Hello everybody, and welcome * **back** * to my channel! Hi, how are ya?_

She snickered at the sight of the YouTuber he chose to watch, looking over at him for an explanation.

"Jeffree Star?" She asked, trying not to laugh. "Didn't think that you'd be into that kind of stuff."

"It's just so fascinatin', how a man can project himself into the public like that," He said, face turning a shade of deep red. "Ye' was right, y'know. This thing is bloody addicting."

"I'm afraid you've only just scratched the surface," Clover said, going to her room to drop her stuff off. She walked back to her living room, sitting next to George.

"I hope you weren't too bored, being at home alone all day," Clover said, pulling her phone out.

"No, no, I was very much distracted by this thing you've gotten me," George replied, motioning to the phone in his hands. He looked like he was about to say something else but was interrupted by Clover's phone beeping. She lifted the phone, sniggering at the picture she'd received.

"What's that you're tittering about?" George asked, trying to look at her phone screen.

Clover turned it around, laughing as she did so. It was a picture of a somewhat flabberghasted George, staring at the camera with his mouth slightly agape and wearing the bright pink sunglasses.

"Where'd you get those things? They're dead grotty." George said, scowling at the picture.

"I'd hope they weren't 'grotty', they cost me well near a fortune. Still not sure why I bought them; I don't really wear them much. This picture, however? Makes them worth ten times what I paid," She said, fawning over the picture as if it were her college degree.

George rolled his eyes, obviously embarrassed by the picture.

"Aw, cheer up George! I'd say you look fantastic in those sunglasses," Clover laughed, gently punching George on the shoulder. He seemed to ease up a bit, smiling at Clover.

"Better than you?" He asked, grinning.

"Don't push it."

 


	9. Evan

♣️

"Morning," Clover said, rubbing her eyes as she walked into the living room. George mumbled a greeting, sitting up and yawning.

"I'm having a visitor today; you should probably make yourself presentable."

"What, is this not good enough?" he turned off his phone and motioned to himself.

"You've been wearing the same suit for the past three days. Your new clothes just came in the mail, though. You should try them," she cracked a few eggs, opting to make eggs and bacon for breakfast.

"You should go take a shower while I make breakfast. I've prepared a towel for you."

"Sure," he got up and walked to the bathroom, yawning again on his way there.

Clover turned back to her pan.

"Alexa, play some music,"

_Jenny Wren_  filled her ears and soothed her soul, making her nod her head to the beat and sing along. The bacon sizzled on the pan, spreading a mouthwatering scent across her home. She heard the shower turn on in the background, adding to the symphony of sounds dancing around her small apartment.

"Ey!" Clover heard a muffled sound but dismissed it as a fly off in the distance. She continued cooking.

"Ey!"

She heard it again, a bit louder this time. She picked up a towel, ready to swat the fly.

"Ey, Clover! I still need clothes, y'know!" A half-naked George appeared, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

"Oh, shoot! Sorry, I forgot," she wiped her hands off on the towel and hurried to her room. Looking through the bags that arrived in the mail, she pulled out a pair of jeans and a hoodie, as well as some underwear. She tossed the clothes at him. He scurried back into the bathroom and quickly got changed, reappearing in the kitchen wearing his new clothes.

ॐ

"Not bad," Clover commented once she saw him. "Lose the 60s slang, and you just might fit in here."

"Ta'," he was more engaged with his plate of eggs and bacon than he was with Clover's compliment.

"Try not to make too much of a mess. I'll be right back; I have to change before he gets here."

_He?_  George's mind raced.  _Does she have a boyfriend?_

"Aren't ye gonna eat something?"

"Me? I don't eat!" she skipped to her room. George couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

He continued eating his breakfast, trying to ignore the sunken feeling that was beginning to settle in his chest.

_What right do I have, worryin' about whether she has a man or not? We've only met a few days ago._

He quickly finished eating his breakfast and put his plate in the sink. Shortly after, he heard the door ring and rushed over to the peephole to see who it was. A young man about his age stood outside the door. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, with freckles speckled all over his face. Rushing to get the sunglasses from the day before, George opened the door. Upon closer inspection, George noticed how attractive the man was. Well-built with a strong jawline, George could tell the guy was athletic. George felt himself covering his spaghetti arms self-consciously.

"Hey man, what's with the glasses?" The man snickered.

"Oh, it's nothing, I just get.." George paused. "Horrible migraines! Yes; I have horrible light-induced migraines, and these were the only glasses Clover had handy."

George took a breath, proud that he was able to conjure up a believable story within a split second.

"Yeah, whatever man," the man smirked, looking at George like he knew something George didn't. "So you're George? Clover's told me all about you,"

"Wait, so you know who I-"

"George Harrison, born February 25th, 1940 in Liverpool, England. Clover never stops talking about you," He held out his hand. "Evan. Evan McCoy. Nice to meet you."

George took the glasses off slowly, feeling a light blush spread across his cheeks.

"I would introduce myself, but it seems like ye already know more about me than I do," George feebly shook his hand, feeling his self-confidence draining more and more by the second.

"Oh! It looks like you two have met," Clover walked into the kitchen, smoothing down her skirt. She walked over to Evan and gave him a huge hug. From the looks of it, he could've squished her if he tried hard enough. George couldn't help but stare at the way his toned biceps flexed as he hugged Clover.

"Come on, sit down," Clover led Evan to the couches and George followed behind, feeling a bit like a third wheel.

"So, when'd you two meet?" George's voice sounded quieter than he'd anticipated.

"Well-" they both started at the same time. Clover looked at Evan and laughed, playfully slapping his muscular arm.

"You go ahead, Evan; I'm sure you remember more clearly than I do,"

"Well, we were in the same class all the way back in preschool," Evan told stories of their time together as children, eyes lighting up as he reminisced on his childhood years.

"We'd always play together during play time," he continued, "There was this one time on the playground where I went to play with another friend. Clover's friend told the teacher that I was ignoring her and I got punished for the rest of the day!"

Evan and Clover exploded into laughter, both of them gasping for breath. George didn't think it was amusing.

"Hey George, you okay? You've barely said a word since Evan got here," Clover looked at him with concerned eyes.

"No, no, I'm just peachy."

George came off a bit more harshly than he'd intended.

"Listen, if I'm making you uncomfortable or anything just let me know," Evan began to get up and gather his things. "I can understand why it can be a bit weird; I know you don't really swing that way and societal norms were a lot different back in the '60s..."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about,"

"George, you don't know? I thought you'd be able to tell!" Clover replied.

"Tell what?"

"Evan's gay"


	10. Sun Goddess

ॐ

It was 8 pm. Clover had been in her room for the better portion of the day, working on school assignments. George had been in the living room, binge-watching Jeffree Star videos on his phone. After watching his mukbang for the 15th time, George turned the phone off, wondering what Clover had been doing for all this time. Stretching, he got up and made his way to her room. Knocking on her door, he slowly pushed it open, stepping into the dismal cloud that was surrounding her. She looked different; a bit more undone. Her brown curly hair was down from its usual slicked-back style and seemed to be going in every direction all at once. Her mascara was smudged around her eyes, contrasting against their pale blue hue.

"Need help?" George stood behind Clover, looking over her shoulder at the piles of work she had on her desk.

"Did you major in neuroscience?" Clover turned around to face him, wearing a playful smile that played with the bags under her eyes.

"No, but I can provide emotional support for you if ye'd like,"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Several minutes passed. George lay on Clover's bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of graphite furiously scratching away on paper. Noticing how much work she had, he couldn't help but ask her a question.

"Why are ye doing so much work? Wouldn't ye rather be out and enjoying yerself?"

"I have to work hard if I want to graduate with good grades,"

"What's the point?"

"I need to get good grades so I can graduate and become a neurosurgeon. That way I can make tons of money and make my parents proud."

George pushed himself up on one arm to face Clover. "But what about you? Do you want to become a neuro-whatnot?"

"Of course I do. I want to make my parents proud of me," Clover swiveled around in her office chair and gave George a look of confusion.

"Yer not getting the point here," George replied, shifting his weight so he was sitting. "Forget yer parents. Pretend they never existed. What do  _you_  want to do?"

"If my parents never existed then neither would I. I kinda owe it all to them. I have to work hard to make them proud."

"But at what expense? Exhausting yourself mentally? Throwing away your youth and free time to make someone else proud?"

"Not just someone else; they're my parents. I have to make them proud of me."

"Or else?"

"Or else they'll be disappointed, and I won't get their support, and everything I've ever worked hard for my entire life would be for nothing," Clover ran her hand through her hair, clutching her forehead. She reached over her desk and popped a pill into her mouth, swallowing it with a mouthful of Monster.

"I didn't mean to bother ye, I'm sorry," George reached out towards Clover, concerned look on his face. "I can leave if ye want me to," he got up and began to walk towards the door. Clover let him leave.

A couple of hours passed and George decided to go back to Clover's room to check on her. Opening the door, he spotted her with her head on the desk. Being careful not to bother her, he tiptoed over to her and gently tapped her shoulder. She let out a small snore. Sighing, he picked her up and placed her on the bed. Looking over at the piles of paper on her desk, he tried deciphering some of it.

_Diencephalon: contains thalamus and hypothalamus_

_Thalamus: Relay station of the brain; sends action potentials (signals) to the appropriate lobe or region to be processed_

He underestimated just how smart Clover really was. If she did understand all this fancy jargon, then she must be serious about what she's doing. She let out a small groan, brows furrowing together. George sat on the edge of her bed, watching as her facial expression changed to one of fear. He watched her toss and turn, evidently having a nightmare. He patted her head gently, trying to soothe her. She began to settle down, and George started to play with her soft hair. He spread it out so it lay around her head like a halo and pulled at each curl, intertwining it in between his fingers. He liked her hair better when it was down like this. Once he placed the last curl in place and completed the halo, Clover let out a contented hum. Her face relaxed, and she looked at peace. She looked like a sun goddess. George pulled out his phone and tapped on the camera icon, taking a few pictures and marveling at the clarity. He felt a surge of inspiration. He gently grabbed the acoustic guitar she kept hanging on her wall and tuned it quietly, making sure not to disturb her. Playing with a few chords, he finally settled on a progression he liked. Grabbing a paper off of her desk, he began to scribble notes and lyrics.

After a few hours, he took what he had so far and performed it to Clover, who was still sound asleep. Gently singing the lyrics, he began:

_Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo)_

_Here comes the sun, and I say_

_It's all right_

_Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter_

_Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here_

_Here comes the sun_

_Here comes the sun, and I say_

_It's all right_

_Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces_

_Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here_

_Here comes the sun_

_Here comes the sun, and I say_

_It's all right_

He stopped abruptly, feeling as though the melody was vaguely familiar to him. After thinking for a while, he recalled it being the same song that Clover was singing when he first met her. Frustrated that the song wasn't his, he put the guitar back and crumpled up the paper, throwing it at the trashcan but missing. He left her room quietly, immediately feeling the exhaustion crash down on him. He collapsed on the couch and instantly fell asleep.

♣️

Clover woke up on her bed, certain that she fell asleep at her desk. Yawning, she padded over to her desk and began to sort all the papers that were scattered on it. Noticing a crumpled up paper near her garbage bin, she reached over and picked it up, opening it.

Reading the lyrics, she immediately recognized the song as Here Comes the Sun, a composition written by George in his later years.

_This can't be right; George doesn't write this song until 1969. He's from 1964. Am I already altering history?_

Feeling a knot in her stomach, she smoothed out the paper and placed it on her desk. After carefully styling her hair, she headed to the living room and sat on the loveseat opposite the couch where George was sprawled out. Hearing her stomach grumble, she prepared a bowl of cereal and returned to her spot on the loveseat. Sitting with her legs crossed, she looked at George. Feeling inspired, she grabbed her sketchpad and pencils. She began with a few lines, forming a rough sketch of what she saw. She sat there, drawing George: his cheekbones, his thick brows, the way his slender legs dangled off of the edge of her couch. Finishing the sketch, she looked up to see George was fully awake.

"Whatcha got there?" He murmured drowsily.

"Oh, it's nothing, just something that I was working on." she felt her cheeks begin to heat up.

"Can I see?" George yawned.

"I'd rather you didn't" she put the sketchbook back on her coffee table. "Oh! I have something I want to ask you about."

She ran to her room and grabbed George's notes, handing them back to him once she reached her living room.

"Did you write this?"

George took the paper, self-consciously folding it and placing it in his pocket.

"Yeah, but I realized I just copied that song ye were singin' when I first met ye."

"Oh, George! You're the one that wrote that song. Granted, it was later on, but that's beyond the point."

"I did?" He pulled out the paper, reading the notes he'd written.

"Yeah, that was all you. What made you think of it now? You weren't supposed to write it 'till later."

"I, uh," George's voice got quiet. "I wrote it for you."

"What was that?"

George blushed profusely, taking a deep breath.

"I wrote it for you."

He pulled out his phone and showed her the picture he took last night.

"My sun goddess," he quickly put his phone back in his pocket, blushing more deeply. "I know it's not great or anything, I wasn't really the songwriter back in my ba-"

Clover cut him off by pulling him into a hug. She closed her eyes and pressed the side of her face into his chest, closing her eyes and listening to his heart. The real George Harrison was alive and he'd just written her favorite song for her.

"It's beautiful."

Smiling, George wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on top of hers.


	11. The Truth

 ॐ

"See ya George; I'm off to class again."

George waved from the couch, turning his attention back to his phone screen. He heard the door click and looked over his shoulder, ensuring Clover was gone. Opening Google, he let his thumbs hover over the keyboard as he took a few deep breaths.

_Am I sure I want to do this? Clover said not to._

He began typing, faltering after the third letter.

_This isn't right. I shouldn't be doing this._

He closed Google, only to open it again after a few seconds.

_One tiny search surely couldn't hurt anyone, can it? Plus, it's my life, and I have a right to know._

He let himself finish typing and pressed enter, closing his eyes. He spent some time in the space behind his sealed eyelids, contemplating whether or not it was worth opening them and discovering the truth. Against his better judgment, he squinted one eye open and peered at the search results. Slowly opening both his eyes, the words on the screen gradually came into focus.

The phone fell.

♣️

Halfway to her car, Clover realized she'd forgotten her neuroscience notes on her desk. Groaning, she turned around and stomped back to her apartment. She'd be late at this rate.

Swinging open her door, she sighed.

"Hey, Geo. Sorry, I just forgot to grab something from my-"

George was slumped over on the couch, cradling his head in his hands. Clover could see him shaking, trembling as if it were freezing in the apartment. She ran over to him.

"Hey, Geo, what's wrong? What happened?"

She sat next to him and pulled him into her arms, rubbing his back trying to calm him down.

"Hey, it's all right now, shhh shhh, it's gonna be alright."

Sniffling, George wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked up at Clover. His eyes were red and puffy, and he looked as if he'd aged ten years since Clover left the apartment.

"What happened?"

Gulping, George only pointed to his phone on the ground before returning his head to his hands. Clover picked up the phone and flipped it over. Cautious not to cut herself on the shattered screen, she unlocked the phone and tried to read the text on the screen. The broken glass made it difficult for her to decipher all but one phrase: "Died November 29, 2001".

Clover looked up at George, scanning his eyes for an answer. His weary gaze told her everything.

"Oh, George,"

She pulled him into her embrace once more, clutching him as if letting go would mean losing him. He sobbed into her shoulder, squeezing his eyes tight. Every whimper he let out broke Clover's heart into a million more pieces. She pulled back and looked at him, holding his cheek in her palm. He stared back at her with an unimaginable burden in his eyes, sighing gently before leaning into her hand and closing them.

"George," she whispered, careful not to startle him. "I'm going to be right back. I feel terrible for leaving you in the state you're in, but I'm only going to take 5 minutes. Promise."

George nodded once, and Clover hugged him one last time before jumping over the couch and grabbing her keys. She bolted out the door and down the stairs to greet the cold winter air, running over to her car and turning it on. Taking a breath, she texted Maria to tell her professor that she was out sick.

♣️

Pushing open the door, she was heartbroken to find George in the same position she left him in, gently weeping into his hands. She padded over to him and gently placed her hand on his back, moving it in slow, circular motions.

"Hey, Geo. How you holding up?"

He sniffled and shrugged. Clover placed her bags down and sat next to him, careful not to harm any of the objects inside.

"I've taken a day off from school, so I'll be home all day with you. We can do anything you want to cheer you up, but first I need to talk to you."

George nodded, averting his eyes to the ground.

"I'm not going to scold you for searching yourself although I told you not to. It's natural to be curious, and I think you've learned your lesson already."

George gave her a gentle smile, grateful for her understanding.

"So, I don't know if you know how you uh," she paused. " _passed_ ,"

The corners of his mouth turned downwards at the word.

"But I think it's important to. If there's anything to be gained for this, it's potentially changing the course of history."

George gasped quietly.

"You died from metastatic lung cancer caused by years of smoking cigarettes."

"So a few harmless fags ended up killing me?"

"First off, that word isn't considered acceptable by the societal standards of today. Second of all, cigarettes are known to increase smokers' chances of getting various cancers exponentially."

"Oh."

"Now for the good news,"

He looked up, eyes glimmering at the chance for any hope.

"Now, in the 21st century, there are other options, other than smoking. I'm talking about something called vapes. They still deliver the rush of nicotine that regular cigarettes provide, but they're so much safer. the vape juice you put into it has varying levels of nicotine, so you can work your way down until you get to 0mg."

She reached down to the plastic bag she placed by her feet and pulled out a small black box. She slid it open and revealed its contents to George. Inside was a vape, two coils, and vape juice.

"I've gotten you a vape and various flavored vape-juices to get you started. All I'm hoping is that you'll be able to quit and prevent the illness."

Looking up at Clover, George's eyes began to well up again. He smiled gently, showing off his fangs for the first time in what seemed like forever. He reached out and pulled Clover into him, smiling into her shoulder. Clover couldn't help but smile back, face buried into his hoodie.

"You're not alone," she whispered. "No matter what happens, I'll always be here."


	12. Bye Bye Anxiety

♧

"Hey loser," Maria burst in, closing the apartment door behind her. She quickly hugged Clover over the couch and hopped over it, gracefully landing next to her.

"Hey, Maria, what's up?"

"I could ask you the same thing - bailing out on class yesterday? That's so unlike you. I just wanted to check and see if you were still alive."

"Unfortunately, I am still very much alive."

"Oh don't say that," Maria replied, looking around. "Where's George? It's been a minute since I last saw him,"

"I think he's in the bathroom right now," Clover looked towards the hallway awkwardly. She had a feeling that was what Maria had come for.

As if on cue, George emerged from the hall wearing a Hawaiian shirt and khakis, looking very much like a dad on vacation.

"George!" Maria pulled him into a tight embrace (a bit too close, if you asked Clover).

"Oh, hello," he said a bit awkwardly, patting Maria on the back a few times before stepping back. Maria beamed at him and sat back down next to Clover, smoothing her skirt down and sitting up straight.

"How've things been?" Maria looked at him eagerly, perched on the edge of Clover's sofa like a robin preparing to take flight.

"Uh," He timidly sat next to Maria, on what was (not) coincidentally the only spot free. "They've been intense, to say the least."

"Care to explain?" Maria edged closer, delicately placing her hand on George's knee. She slowly looked from her hand up to George's face, eyes dancing as they traced the vibrant pattern on his shirt.

Having had enough of Maria's blatant disdain towards everything but George, Clover stood up.

"Please don't mind me," she adjusted the hem of her shirt and gave Maria a menacing glare. "I have some schoolwork to catch up on from yesterday."

Stalking down the hallway, Clover didn't stop until she reached the secluded comfort of her room and shut the door.

Looking back at her pillow, Clover felt her eyes begin to well up as she thought about how cruelly Maria was acting. Clover was the Beatles fan. She was the one who'd spent hours reading anecdotes of their times in Hamburg or articles about the most recent Beatlemaniac that'd climbed their fence and stolen their belongings. She was the one who'd fantasized about this happening ever since middle school. Did that give her exclusive rights to him? He was just another human, after all, and he seemed more so now that he was alive and in her living room. She figured he did have the right to choose who to pursue. Maria was his type - small, feminine, and blonde. Was that it? Clover just wasn't good enough in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she trudged over to her bed, clutching her stomach to try and dull the dread that'd bloomed inside of it like a dandelion. She collapsed onto her duvet, not caring about how she was crumpling the previously smooth covers. She didn't care that she was smudging her makeup or that she was ruining her hair. Staring at her ceiling, Clover cursed it all - the three numbers that made up her weight, her unruly hair that never seemed to cooperate, all the clothes that didn't suit her that Maria had always pulled off so well.

Was she overreacting? No, it couldn't be. Just once. It'll only hurt a bit. Reaching under her pillow, she bid her anxiety a temporary goodbye.

ॐ

Clover abruptly stood. "Please don't mind me," she adjusted the hem of her shirt and turned around. "I have some schoolwork to catch up on from yesterday."

She stalked down the hall and slammed the door once she reached her room, making George flinch.

"She can be so overdramatic sometimes," Maria giggled, turning her full attention to back George.

Staring down at the carpet uncomfortably, George could feel Maria scanning his features, searching for a response.

"Is there something wrong?" she dropped her voice. "You don't seem too cheerful today."

"Yeah," George mustered his biggest smile. "I'm quite alright,"

"Oh, if you say so," Maria smiled.

Biting her lip slightly, she leaned over and whispered into George's ear.

"So, what do you say we go out somewhere to eat?"

"Sure, I'd just have to check with Clo-"

"Just the two of us." She smiled, tracing her fingertips along his knee once again. "I'd love to get to know you better."

George remembered how threatening she'd come off the first day, right after she'd woken up. Gulping, he scratched his head as he contemplated the risks of declining her offer.

"Uh, sure?" He stuttered, feeling his face turn a deep red.

"Oh, you're so adorable! Don't be nervous; I won't bite" she leaned in once again, whispering into his ear. "unless you want me to,"

She stood up and grabbed her purse, extracting a small slip of paper and a pen. She scribbled her number on it.

"Here, text me tonight so we can arrange a date." She walked to the door and paused. "I'll be looking forward to it," she winked and left the apartment.

Sighing, George walked down the hall to Clover's room.

♧

Clover was startled by three timid knocks on her door. She quickly placed it under her pillow and rolled her sleeve down.

"Come in," her voice was raspy.

"You alright, Clo'? You left so suddenly that I-" he paused once he caught sight of her puffy eyes the black streaks running down her face. "What 'appened? Did I do something?"

He slowly padded over to her bed and sat down on it gently.

"Oh, it's not you," She said, voice cracking at the last word.

"Well, who was it? Is there anything I could do?" he furrowed his brows, looking down at Clover's trembling frame.

"No, it isn't anyone's fault, really," she wiped her nose on her sleeve. "It's just me being overdramatic."

Wrapping his arms around her, George picked her up bridal style and carried her to the living room.

"What're you doing?" Clover asked, surprised that he was able to carry her.

"We're going to watch movies. Five of them - hell, as many as it takes 'till I see you laugh. Then we're going to play music and talk about the meaning of life until it's too late to keep our eyes open."

Setting her down on the couch, he wrapped her in a fuzzy blanket. He walked to her fridge and retrieved the stash of chocolates she'd hidden from him (evidently not very well). He dropped the bag in her lap.

"Eat." He sat next to Clover and shuffled closer, getting under the blanket and draping an arm around her.

Clover looked from the chocolates to George, opening one and cramming it down her throat.

ॐ

"Marry me," she said through her full mouth.

The familiarity of the phrase stung George and brought his mind back to Pattie. She was terrific - always kind, with blonde hair and a small frame, but Clover was different. In 1964 he was so sure that she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but now she seemed like a ghost of his past, so far away that she barely existed.

He looked at Clover. She was curled up against his chest, gently crying into her chocolates. He noted how adorable she looked when she let her guard down around him. She seemed less uptight; happier and freer. He smiled and leaned into her, inhaling the sweet coconut scent coming from her curls. He gently rubbed her back, trying to stop her tears. She hiccupped, making him chuckle. She looked up at him with wide eyes, blinking twice.

"What's so funny?"

"Yer adorable," he brushed a stray curl from her face.

He saw a light rose color spread across her cheeks as she turned back to the television.

He stayed up with her all night just as he'd promised; joking while she did her homework to keep her spirits up, laying down next to her and sharing existential thoughts, and holding her in his arms as she fell asleep.


End file.
